The Ten Second Video

Brandon Figliolino

The Ten Second Video

November 23, 2019

            Can a ten second video change your life?

It was November 23, 2015. I was sitting at my desk in a corporate office, processing orders for a technology company. While I typed away, my phone buzzed.

            I received a Snapchat from my sister. Snapchat, a video and photo-sharing app, had been around for several years at that point, but I had just started getting into it. I enjoyed sending photos of my cat, Lucas Logan, to my family. The rest of the photos I shared were generally of me on my bike. It was a fun app and a good way to decompress.

            I finished processing the order and took a break to check the Snapchat my sister had sent. I clicked the icon with the white ghost. My sister’s username popped up with a red the square. I clicked it. A small, grey tabby in a metal cage appeared. Wide eyed, she stuck her paw through the metal slats, trying to catch a feather toy that my sister was dangling. My sister was laughing in the background. Within ten seconds, the video vanished.

            Whose cat is that? I texted, knowing full-well she was in a shelter.

            Her name is Emma! I went to PetSmart to play with the cats, she responded.

            Which PetSmart?

            The rest of the afternoon, I was fixated on this cat. I loved Lucas but had been growing more guilty of leaving him at home alone. My work schedule had changed, and I had taken on more volunteering opportunities. I wondered if he needed a friend.

            Maybe I needed one, too.

            When five o’clock came around, I hurried to PetSmart, clear across town from where I worked. I walked straight back to the cat adoption area and found an employee.

            “I’m here to see a cat,” I told the young high school student with purpose. “Her name is Emma.”

            He brought me in to the room. There weren’t many cats in there. I smiled at them all and said a little prayer for each in my head. May you find your forever homes.

            Then I saw her. She was curled up in the front of the cage, tufts of her fur popping through the slats.

            “Hi there,” I said. I poked a few fingers through the metal wires to scratch her head. She raised her head, cooing.

            I looked over to the store employee. “Can I hold her?”

            He unlocked the cage. She hopped down onto the floor from quite the height and started running around the room. When she settled down, I walked over and petted her. She rolled onto her side, cupped my hand between her front paws, then started kicking me like a rabbit. Then she hopped up, bolted to the other side of the room, and then raced back to me, sending out little chirps into the air.

            It was adorable.

            “Do you know anything about her?” I asked the employee.

            He shook his head. “I only know what is on the sheet over there,” he said pointing to her intake paper hung on the door of her cage. It said she was about a year old and came from a shelter in Texas.                               

            Emma stopped running for a minute and took a seat next to me. I looked into her warm eyes as she blinked.

            I didn’t have a cat carrier on hand, so I bought a $12 one made of cardboard. She didn’t like it at all. When I put her in the car, she howled and cried. I tried to reassure her that it would only be temporary, but that didn’t stop her from expressing her fear. I started the car.

            “You’re going to be okay, Emma. You’re coming home.” Before I put the car into gear, I connected my phone to the stereo system.

            “How about we listen to music?” I fumbled through my playlists until I found one that caught my eye: the orchestral soundtrack to the show Once Upon a Time. The fantasy series, based off fairy tales, is the story about a woman named Emma Swan who returns to the town of Storybrooke to defeat the Evil Queen.

It was the perfect, calm soundtrack for the car ride home. The car rolled along, and Emma calmed down, listening to the music.

“I wonder if there is a Storybrooke in Texas, Miss Emma Swan,” I mused aloud.

After a bit, I called my mom.

“I did something crazy.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Ashley sent me a video of a cat at the pet store and I just adopted her.”

“Congratulations! I’m glad I have another grand kitty.”

We arrived home. Seeing as I had not done any research on how to introduce cats, I set the cardboard box down on in the front hall. This is not the preferred method I have since learned. Lucas Logan strolled in from the bedroom, meowing for his dinner.

“Hi buddy! I have a surprise for you.” I opened the box. Emma popped out and began exploring the condo, tail wagging. Lucas followed in tow, keeping his distance, but unwilling to let Emma out of his sight. While they explored, I prepared their wet food dinner. I set the two plates side-by-side on the kitchen floor. The new friends sat and had their first meal together.

When it was bedtime, I called for the cats. Lucas hopped on the bed and Emma quickly followed, taking a place right beside Lucas.

My family had gotten bigger and I couldn’t have been happier.

At the time, Snapchat had been an entertaining way to send selfies to my friends and a way to show-off my cycling adventures, but all those previous and subsequent “snaps” seem irrelevant now. That video my sister shared was a gateway to what has since been years of happiness. Emma has been with me through new jobs, new friendships, a move to Denver, and so many great memories, experiences I would have missed were it not for my sister’s impromptu decision to send me a Snapchat video of a cat playing with a toy. Emma is attention-seeking, playful, and always by my side or on my lap, in good times and crummy ones. In the TV show, Emma Swan is the savior of Storybrooke. In some ways, Emma saved me and Lucas, too. She still does.

There’s a piece of me that is thankful for Snapchat’s existence. Had it not been around, I may not have found Emma Swan of Storybrooke, and no doubt my life would have been a little emptier.

            It turns out, a ten second video can change your life.